


Make You Feel My Love

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Intimacy, Pregnancy, Romance, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Written for a fluff challenge on Tumblr.





	Make You Feel My Love

Clutching the blanket to your chest, you reached out blindly with your spare hand, sliding your fingers around the stalk of the wine glass. You lifted it to your lips, sipping at the wine as your eyes remained glued to the screen, where Birdee was pleading with Bill, the douchebag. Without even thinking, your lips moved with the words, your breath hitching in your throat as tears gathered in your eyes.

“I would have stayed with you forever,” you mouthed, as Sandra Bullock spoke the words aloud. “I would have turned myself inside out for you.”

“What are you doin’, baby girl?”

You shrieked, turning abruptly, your cocoon of blankets swiping the bowl of popcorn and the glass of (thankfully) white wine onto the carpet, creating a soggy, sticking mess. John was in the doorway, arms folded across his chest as he smirked. “John! You scared the shit outta me!”

He let his arms fall to his side, stepping as little closer to peer at you on the floor, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Are you watchin’ chick flicks?” he drawled, using his arms to lean on the back of the couch.

Your cheeks colored - busted. It was your guilty little pleasure when he was at work, and you hadn’t been expecting him home for at least another two hours. Slowly, you nodded, watching him with wide eyes as he crossed the space around the couch, sliding down next to you.

“Which one?” he asked, picking up your now empty wine glass, and placing it back on the table before scraping the popcorn back into the bowl.

Swallowing, you kept your eyes on him. “Hope Floats. It’s, er, one of my favorites.”

John grinned, tugging on the covers, finding you wearing only panties and a vest underneath. His eyes lit up, and he smirked. “Mine too.” His admission was a little bit of a shock, and you blinked, looking back at the television screen. One thick arm hooked around your shoulders, pulling you in close as the words spoken on the screen rumbled in his chest. “I would have stayed with you forever,” John repeated, as Sandra Bullock spoke the words aloud. “I would have turned myself inside out for you.”

“Wow,” you whispered, still staring at him.

“What?” he asked. “Am I not allowed to like romantic comedies?”

“You sure you weren’t watching for Sandra?” you returned, narrowing your eyes. John chuckled, moving in for you. “She’s prettier than me.”

He nuzzled the tip of his nose against yours. “Baby girl, she ain’t got nothin’ on you.” Your eyes slid back to the screen, watching as the movie built towards its emotional climax, and you could feel the tears building in your eyes again. John’s arm pulled you closer, into his chest, and when the credits started to roll, you remained still, closing your eyes.

“When the rain is blowin’ in your face -” the sound of John’s deep timbre singing the song made your eyes snap open, and you slowly lifted your head to look at him. “And the whole world is on your case.” He was smiling now, those dark eyes focused on yours with adoration, and you found yourself enraptured by his voice. “I could offer you a warm embrace,” his arm pulled you even closer, and you braced yourself against his chest with one hand, “to make you feel my love.”

“I never knew you were such a girl,” you whispered, smiling at your own joke, and John laughed under his breath, leaning into you, pressing your foreheads together. “John -”

“Sssh,” he urged. “Gonna make you feel my love, sweetheart,” he purred, slipping his fingers around your wrist where it was bent against his chest. Urging your hand down, he stopped when your palm was covering the bulge in his pants, and you giggled.

“You’re the cheesiest,” you muttered, shaking your head, unable to temper the smile on your face.

John answered your remark with a deep, heated kiss, pushing you backwards until your back was against the floor, protected by the blankets you’d had around you. His kiss didn’t end at your mouth - right there, between the coffee table and the couch, he started to trail his lips along your jaw, down the column of your throat until he reached the swell of your breasts.

“I know you haven’t made your mind up yet,” he crooned, his hot breath fanning over your skin, and your nipples strained against the thin fabric of the vest. “But I will never do you wrong.” His fingers tugged at your top, pushing it up over your breasts, and you willingly removed it the rest of the way, feeling the vibration of his deep voice as he kept singing. “I’ve known it from the moment that we met -” His tongue lapped at your nipple for a split second, his saliva making it more reactive to the cool air conditioned atmosphere of the apartment. “No doubt in my mind where you belong.”

You whimpered as John sucked your other nipple into his mouth, his tongue teasing at it as he scraped blunt teeth over the sensitive skin. When his fingers glided down your sides, almost tickling you, you arched a little, making him chuckle and release your breast.

“That’s it, darlin’. Lift up those pretty hips for me.” Obeying him was instinctive, and his calloused fingertips hooked into the elastic of your underwear, dragging it down your thighs until he couldn’t get them any further, and he pushed up onto his knees, giving himself the room to divest you of your last garment.

He didn’t waste any time once you were bare to him, leaning down and using his big hands to part your thighs, enough for him to press his face against your throbbing pussy. His tongue teased and thrust against you, coming so close to touching your clit, before pulling away again. One of John’s favorite pastimes was seeing how close he could get to the precipice, then letting you simmer down.

But he wasn’t in the mood for that tonight.

His lips closed around the sensitive bud, to the edge of discomfort, before he slid two fingers into your soaked hole, and you spasmed around him, crying out your pleasure and drowning out the sound of the credits. The only light in the room was coming from the black and white screen, making John’s eyes glint as he looked up at you, panting and open for him.

Neither of you need to say the three words - you’d moved beyond that a long time ago. You pulled your knees up, letting your thighs fall as wide apart as possible, toying one finger through your folds as John stripped. The plaid shirt came off first, revealing definitive muscles, despite his age - the thin dusting of salt and pepper hair across his pectoral muscles, leading down in a sinful trail towards his navel, only enhanced his attractiveness.

The clinking of metal drew your attention to his waist, where his thick fingers were pulling the clasp apart. There was a filthy smirk on his face, a smile reserved only for the times when he knew you were his in every carnal sense. “Want this, baby girl?” he questioned, pushing his pants down to sit underneath his ass, allowing his cock to spring free from its denim confines. 

God, you loved it when John didn’t wear anything underneath those perfectly fitting jeans. You nodded, biting your bottom lip, watching as precome oozed from his tip, his fingers slicking along his length as he watched you. With a twitch of your hands, you pushed up, wanting him in your mouth, but John pushed you back by the shoulder, shaking his head.

“Not tonight,” he whispered, leaning in to nuzzle at your breast again. “Tonight I’m showing you my love.” You gasped when his cockhead rubbed against your cunt, easily aided by the slick coating your folds, but John was more intent on suckling at your nipples to go any further.

“John,” you pleaded, wiggling in an attempt to get him inside. “Please -”

The deep chuckle he replied with rumbled against your breast, and he pulled his head up to look at you, rolling his hips forward. He slid home in a delightfully drawn out stroke, his generous girth stretching you in the way that you’d become accustomed to, and anticipated every time John pushed into you for the first time.

A breathy moan escaped your lips, and your hands came up to play with your own nipples. John grunted, his groin coming flush with yours, applying pressure that wasn’t near enough on your clit. You needed more - the thick, throbbing head of his cock was pressed against your cervix, but you needed him to move.

John was never slow to pick up on what you wanted, groaning as your pussy walls flexed around him, sucking at him as he withdrew to the point where his cock was just resting against your hole. For a second, he waited, before thrusting back into you, keeping his pace deliberately slow and teasing.

The fourth time he repeated the movement, you cried in frustration, needing more than the simmering fire in your belly - you craved the explosion, the roll of pleasure, the pure, electric sensation of cumming over his cock, of feeling your body spasm as he struck notes in your soul that you’d never repeat for anyone but him.

“You want to cum, baby girl?” he asked, and your eyes snapped open wide, your nod making the blankets underneath your head rustle. John smirked, pushing up so his back was straight, and he hauled you into his lap using your wrists, his big hands cupping your ass. It made the air rush out of your lungs and the blood rush to your head, and when they met in the middle, you became a pliant pile of mush in John’s arms. “Too quick?”

You smiled dopily, enjoying the rush of endorphins, the way you felt lightheaded but so full of him. From this angle, he was pressed even deeper inside you, your weight holding you down flush with the base of his cock, and you could almost feel his heartbeat inside you.

“Ride me,” he commanded, his voice just above a growl. With a slow blink, you dragged your arms up to loop them around his shoulders, joining your fingers behind his neck, feeling the soft dark curls there grazed your thumb knuckles.

When you lifted up on your knees, allowing him to slide easily from your slick hole, he made a noise of pleasure. As you dropped back down, inch by inch, your walls taking him like he was made to inside you, the noise of pleasure became a twisted snarl of bliss on his face. His lip curled, and his eyes were mostly shut, and you could feel his balls hard against your ass.

“I think you need to fill me up, John,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth.

It was enough to provoke what you wanted, you started to move faster, feeling John’s lower body move to meet you at every thrust. The angle was perfect, making it seem like he’d break you, enough pain mixed with the pleasure to heighten every response, and you knew you couldn’t hold on. By the way his cock swelled and pulsed, you didn’t think John would either.

“Cum inside me.” The soft plea was almost staggered by the way you were practically bouncing on his thighs. John’s snarl covered the last echoes of the credit music, and your scream obliterated it as the dam in your belly broke. He pulled you down once more into his lap, before his arms held you close, his entire body jerking as he pumped cum deep inside you.

His hot breath was against your neck, making you feel like you were sweating, and your own breathing was labored. When John had regained his senses a little, he moved upwards, cracking his toes and making you grimace.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized. “Getting a bit old for being on my knees like this.”

You tutted, rolling your eyes and standing up. Feeling his spendings drip down your thigh, you caught it with the blanket, watching John stand to remove his pants. When he was naked, he dropped onto the couch, and you wrapped the blankets around your lower half to prevent any questionable stains on the cushions. “I love you,” you whispered, feeling the urge to say it for once, and John smiled, kissing your temple.

“You too,” he replied, looking over at the now blank screen. “How many more months of chick flicks and my woman crying at ducklings have I got?”

Contemplating the answer, you rubbed one hand over your barely there bump, sighing heavily. “Oh, about six.”

John smirked, leaning in to kiss you briefly. “I can’t wait.”


End file.
